Wizard Theory
by Freya Ishtar
Summary: *AU* Magic-obsessed geneticist Hermione knows the pitfalls, but can't help falling for two of her test subjects, Harry and Draco. When she introduces them for the sake of her study, she learns they were lovers once, who never quite got over each other. And neither seems willing to let her go. Yet, things only get stranger from there. MATURE CONTENT (Dramione/Harmione/Drarry)
1. Drawn Together

**DISCLAIMER****:**_** Harry Potter **_**characters & certain other key elements(c) JK Rowling. I make no profit from this story.**

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><p><span><strong>CONTENT WARNING<strong>**: My AU fanfictions tend to veer**_** very**_** far from their source material, despite parallels, and/or the use of certain key canon elements. If this does not sit well with you as a fan of the source material, then please, read no further. Thank you. :)**

**I apologize that this first chapter is a bit info-dump-ish (and some of the technical bits may be incorrect, I'm working with what I pick up from Discovery Channel & History Channel programs). Please bear with me for just a little while as the story takes shape.**

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><p><span><strong>My other <strong>_**H****P **_**Fanfictions****:**

_A Night Unfettered_ (Dramione [**One-Shot**, Lemon])

_Dame Blanche _(Dramione/Harmione [possible Drarry])

_Distractions_ (Dramione/Harmione/Hints of Drarry [PwP; _only _on AFF. net])

_Hermione Granger and the Chaos Artifact _(Dramione/Harmione/Drarry)

_Lessons in Hedonism_ (Draco/Hermione/Blaise [PwP; _only_ on AFF. net])

_Mortality _([AU] Dramione)

_Nights at Malfoy Manor _(Dramione) **COMPLETE!**

_Silver Blood_ ([DARK FIC] Dramione/Harmione)

_Teach Me_ (Dramione/Scormione [18 yr. old Scorpius])

_Tourniquet_ (Lumione/Dramione)

_Unnatural Magick_ ([AU] Harmione/Dramione in Flashbacks)

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><p><strong>Chapter One<strong>

Drawn Together

_**Harry**_

Hermione stretched, blinking her eyes open. Harry responded instantly, even still half-asleep, himself, and tightened his arms around her, pulling her against him.

Groaning, despite snuggling deeper into his hold, she said with a sigh, "Why do I keep waking up here? Once more, I had _no_ intention of staying the night, yet here I still am."

He raised up on an elbow so that he could peer into her face. "Because I leave you _so_ thoroughly exhausted and fulfilled that you can't help falling asleep afterward."

Giggling, she turned in his arms to lie on her back. As she swept her hands over his shoulders, her gaze fell on her watch. Hermione frowned, bringing the time piece close to her eyes.

"Bloody hell," she muttered, ducking out from beneath him to sit up. "I was supposed to be at the lab ten minutes ago."

Harry shifted, sitting on his heels behind her as she snatched her bra and blouse off the night table. Biting his lip, he trailed a fingertip down her spine, chuckling deep in the back of his throat when she shivered.

"Behave yourself," she said over her shoulder, pulling on her bra.

"I will not," he feigned indignation, watching as she slipped on her blouse.

Curling his body to lean around her, he lowered his mouth, grazing his teeth over one satin-covered nipple. She gasped, sinking her fingers into his thick, unruly dark hair as her head fell back.

She shuddered as he circled her with his arms to trace his fingertips teasingly along her thighs. "I . . ." she paused, uttering a happy sigh. "That is nice—wait, wait, no!" Hermione pulled away from him and stood, turning on a heel to face him, a scowl marring her features.

Harry's eyebrows shot up as he met her gaze. Smiling, he pressed the pad of his thumb against his lips to hold in a laugh.

"I told you," she insisted, swatting at his other hand—reaching toward her tauntingly just now—before buttoning up her blouse. "I have to get to the lab."

Sighing and shaking his head, he moved to lay on his side. "I don't see why." He rested his weight on his elbow and dropped his chin against his palm. "It's your _private_ laboratory. Why should it matter when you—? Oh, I get it. _He's_ going to be there, isn't he? That other man you're seeing?"

Hermione glanced up from searching for her knickers long enough to grant him a frown. "Don't tell me you're jealous after insisting all this time that you're fine with us not being exclusive?"

"Jealous? No." He gave a sideways nod. "Just don't cry about it when you realize you're deeply in love with me, but someone new has come along and swept me off my feet."

She laughed, triumphant when she found her missing undergarment beneath the sofa—how on earth it found its way under there was anyone's guess—and ignored him for the moment it took her to step into her knickers and pull them up.

"Harry Potter," she said, returning to the bedside and kneeling down so they were eye-level, "I told you already, I am in love you with." She gave a half-shrug. "And I'm in love with him. But that's not what this is about. If the marker I found in your DNA matches his, then I've finally done it!"

Chuckling, he rolled to lay on his back, shaking his head. "Yes, and it's _so_ important to prove you're not barking that you went so far as to shag two of your test subjects just to keep us around."

"Oy! That's not how it happened and you know it, you . . . giant pain in the arse." She laughed, despite the harsh tone with which she spoke the words, as she slid on her skirt and zipped it up. "I was just sort of . . . drawn to you. And him. Couldn't help myself."

He turned his head, again only watching her as she stepped into her shoes.

"Probably why I'm_ not_ looking forward to you two meeting," she said, her voice low.

Harry furrowed his brow, folding his hands behind his head. "Why? You _have_ told him he's not the only person you're seeing, haven't you?"

"Of course! Do you think you have some special privilege?" She fussed with her wild mane of golden-brown hair, winding it into an adorably untidy bun high on the back of her head. "And no, before you ask, he's not been the jealous sort about it, either."

"_You_ said he and I have to meet for the sake of your study, anyway. I'd prefer _not _to meet the other man who's spending nights in your bed, but that's beside the point. What are you worried about? That we'll feel like we're competing with one another if we see what—or maybe I should say _who_—you're doing when you're not with us?"

Her eyebrows shot up as she crawled onto the bed to lean her face over his. "Hardly. You two have both been rather sporting about this entire thing, in fact. You two have to meet so I can gauge your reactions to one another. See if there is any sort of natural connection, or rapport. If there is, that'll suggest that somehow you recognize the genetic traits you share. And since those traits aren't visible ones . . . ." Hermione trailed off, shrugging. "Okay, I'm not entirely certain _what_ the true significance of that will be—yet—but it _will_ mean I've been onto something all along!"

A wicked half-smile curved his lips. "You are _so_ avoiding the question."

"Okay, fine." She reached up, tracing his jaw with her fingertip. "It's just . . . _you're_ dashing, and charming, and _he's_ dashing and charming . . . and you _both_ swing both ways. You'll excuse me if I'm a little concerned that when you two do meet, if you get on well, then . . . you're both going to wonder why either of you are wasting your time on me."

Green eyes widening as he realized she was serious, Harry shook his head. "You've got nothing to worry about." His expression mellowed as he added, "I'm certain we'd both be perfectly agreeable to letting you join in."

Hermione burst out laughing as she slapped his shoulder.

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><p><em><strong>Hermione<strong>_

The drive to her lab was quiet, she wasn't certain if that was because she'd missed traffic, or there was simply something _off _in the air, today.

Her excitement was so potent, she thought if anyone looked at her hard enough, they might actually see a crackle of energy spill from her. For as long as she could remember, she'd been convinced that magic and miracles had a basis in reality. In her opinion there was no accounting, otherwise, for the volume of stories from ancient cultures the world over about mankind wielding unearthly abilities.

Vilification of humans who could perform true magic by the religious leaders of the day was a fitting explanation for the power dying out. Anyone in their right mind would have simply pretended they didn't possess such abilities. _And_ if people once possessed such traits, their genetic lines _must_ have a unique marker, somewhere in their DNA; the way some families possessed rare eye colors, or genetic defects particular to their lineage, or ethnicity.

Though, she thought perhaps how her mentor had laughed at her idea might be the true driving force behind her obsession, more than any other factor. Deciding that the trait must manifest somehow, she sunk her inheritance into acquiring her own laboratory with all the necessary equipment. Next was running ads seeking individuals who possessed extra sensory abilities, as such _talents_ mirrored ancient tales of magical ability.

Oh, she could've filled a school auditorium with the number of crackpots who turned up, claiming they could perform this or that extraordinary psychic feat.

But then came Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy. Harry, who could tell her what color shirt she wore during a phone chat, or knew who was at the door before they knocked; and Draco, learning, still, to control an ability to move objects with his mind, who also exhibited a minor hyper-awareness.

Yet, at some point, proving herself to Severus Snape became unimportant. Surely, she'd still rub his nose in it, once she proved the existence of magic, but that was no longer what fueled her.

She really only wanted to prove it to herself, now. Humiliating the world-renowned geneticist would simply be a bonus.

As she pulled into the tiny carpark behind her lab, she noticed the light on the security keypad was green. Chestnut eyes flew wide in a mix of fear and anger as she parked and hurried out of her car.

Nearing the small building, she craned her neck, peering around the corner. Just as she suspected, there was a sleek, black sports car. Sighing, her shoulders drooped. He'd picked up her code—_again. _Forth bloody time in as many months!

"Draco," she said in an angry hiss as she reset the code and stepped into the building.

Yet, as she stalked down the short corridor to set her keys and purse on her desk and look around, she saw no one. She frowned, shaking her head. Honestly, he could be _so_ childish.

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><p><strong><em>Draco<em>**

He watched from around a bend in the wall as she entered her office area. The set of her shoulders told him she was irritated—given that he'd entered the laboratory with her most recently set new code, that irritation was directed at him.

Biting his lip, he stepped out, his footfalls silent. Circling her with his arms, he lowered his mouth to her ear, whispering, "You're late."

Frowning, she turned to face him. "Yes, well, that still doesn't give you the right to—"

He pressed his mouth over hers, his tongue thrusting between her lips. She didn't even put up a fight he noticed, caressing his plunging tongue with her own as she wound her arms up around his neck. Pulling her tight against him, he lifted her, setting her on her desk.

Draco stepped forward, pressing himself between her thighs. When she shuddered, and gave that sweet, pleading little whimper he knew so well, he broke the kiss and retreated, moving out of her reach.

She frowned in confusion, her gaze darting about. "Wha—?"

"No, that's it, that's all you get. Making me wait on you like that, honestly!"

Hermione sighed. She supposed she deserved that, but still . . . . "You're such a spoiled brat," she said, grousing, as she slipped down to plant her feet on the floor.

"You are the one who told me to be here at ungodly o'clock this morning."

She ignored that at ungodly o'clock, she'd been in her other boyfriend's bed. "I know, and I'm sorry I'm late. Still no reason to be a tease."

He smirked, stepping close enough that she could feel the warmth of his breath on her lips. "How else would I get to see that flush in your cheeks?"

Lowering her gaze, she forced a breath. Though she would never admit it aloud, she had such trouble focusing when staring into those grey eyes of his. "You said you wanted to learn more about what I'm doing. So today is when we see if the markers I found are a match."

"Oh, your other sweetie and me, hmm?"

She sighed. "You're both having way too much fun with this," she said sourly as she took her seat and switched on her computer. "I just realized it last night. One of those as you're falling asleep epiphanies, really. Do you recall what I said about junk DNA?"

"I recall that you're chatty when you get excited," he quipped as he leaned over her shoulder to look at the screen. When she shot him a withering glare, his face fell. "Oh," he cleared his throat. "Right, sorry. Junk DNA, so named because it's believed to not carry any vital information. Literally junk genetic material."

"Exactly." Hermione spoke as she opened two separate files on the screen, working to minimize the images just right so that they could be viewed side by side. "Now, logically that always sounded a little off to me, as it's only labeled that since no one can decipher it. So I got to thinking, what if it's not junk at all, but simply more complex information that must be decoded differently from other genetic material."

"Chatty," he said again, but she let it slide when he dropped a kiss on the back of her neck.

"Now, I don't know how to decipher it—yet—but I figured that in looking at what was there, I'd be able to find anything that looked similar. And as I examined the junk information from each of your chains, I noticed each of you had something_ clear, _and defined sort of . . . mixed in."

"Mixed in? Like it's hidden?"

Her spine stiffened at that notion, as it hinted at a deliberate burying of the information, though she couldn't be certain Draco understood the meaning of his own statement. "That's an odd way to put it, but I suppose."

"So you're hoping these bits of something clear, that you still can't read, match?"

"And that's why I love you," she muttered, scrutinizing the two panels of information before them. "Pretty packaging, and brains, too."

Hermione snapped back in her seat, shoulders bumping Draco's chest. He could swear she was holding her breath. "Granger, what is it?"

After a moment, she forced herself to inhale, deep and slow, and let the air out, just as carefully. Raising a hand, she touched the screen with two fingers, directing his attention to identical marks among the _more complex_ information in the two, separate chains.

"Does this mean he and I are related?"

"Not quite," she said, excitement edging her voice as she laced her fingers through his and pulled his arms around her. "What it means, I think, is that your ancestors are related. In that context, you're about as related to him as I am to the Queen of Sheba."

Draco sighed. "So the next step is seeing how we are around each other, right?"

"Right," she said, but only looked at her phone. She couldn't believe she actually didn't want them to meet because _she_ was insecure. Certainly, she could always tell herself they were lying about being okay with the situation, but she knew that wasn't the problem. Honestly, she was so concerned—for the exact reason she'd told Harry—that she hadn't even told them one another's names.

Feeling the tension in her body, he shifted her in his arms so that he could meet her gaze. "Granger, what's . . . oh, bloody hell. Is this about that 'you're both charming, and dashing' rubbish again?"

Frowning, she turned her chair to look up at him properly. "Well? I can't sit here and say it's not true. Yes, okay, I'm a little scared that by bringing you two together, I'm making horrible mistake. Like the optimistic girl in poorly written romance novels, who accidentally introduces her boyfriend to his soul mate."

"You're right. That would be poor writing; could swear that's been done a thousand times."

Scowling, she swatted at his side. "I'm serious. If you two, I don't know, have some instant, earth-shattering connection, where does that leave me?"

Grey eyes rolled upward as he thought that through. "If I were you, I'd hope right in the middle."

She laughed, reaching for the phone as she shook her head.

Draco placed a hand over hers. "Wait. Look, if it bothers you that much, then don't do it. We don't have to meet. You still found the marker."

Sighing, her shoulders slumped. "Yes, but it's not going to mean as much as it should without further physiological evidence to support it. I'll be treated the same as those ancient astronaut nutters."

"Granger—"

"No, it's okay. I have to do this. Discovery is more important than my insecurities."

The phone rang in her hand and she jumped. She shared a quick, startled glance with Draco before answering. "Hullo?"

"Hermione, it's me. Pulling into the carpark, now."

She blinked rapidly a few times at the sound of Harry's voice. "Wait, you're here? I was about to call you, how did you—?"

"When will you learn to stop asking that question? I got the feeling you needed me, was already in the car, so here I am."

Hermione hung up and turned to look at Draco. He merely held her gaze for a silent moment, before he managed to say, "He's here?"

She nodded, biting her lip. "He just sort of knows things like that."

One dark eyebrow shot up into his pale-blonde hair. "Well, that's disconcerting."

Again, she nodded.

The bell at the door buzzed, and she pressed the control on the small security console at the back of her desk. Hermione glanced toward the small corridor that lead from the exterior door to her office, catching the way Draco's back went rigid, his grey eyes flashing wide.

"It can't be," he said, his voice barely audible.

"Draco, what's the matter?"

The moment the words left her lips, Harry stepped into the room. The same alert, yet strangely dazed look on his face.

Harry forced a gulp down his throat, a hint of red staining his cheeks. "Malfoy."

With a brief nod, Draco squared his jaw, a faint blush creeping into his fair skin, as well. "Potter."

Hermione's gaze darted from one young man to the other, and back. "You two already . . . ." Her voice trailed off, her breath catching in her throat as she understood suddenly.

Each of them had told her of a previous relationship. Each stressed that it ended on a sour note; each said they weren't certain they'd ever truly get over their ex-boyfriend.

Each refused to mention their former lover's name.

"Oh, God," she said, panic twisting in her stomach as she watched them.

Neither had moved a muscle. But the way they stared at one another . . . . She had no idea if they were going to kill each other, or tear each other's clothes off.

And, at the moment, she was so scared for both of them that she didn't care where either option left her.


	2. Set Apart

**I would like to apologize for how long it's taken me to update this. I'm very sorry, the second chapter simply did not come to me as easily as the first.**

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><p><strong>Thank you for the warm reception of this fic! I really appreciate it :)<strong>

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><p><span><strong>My other <strong>**_HP _Fanfictions:**

_A Night Unfettered_ (Dramione [One-Shot, Lemon])

_Dame Blanche _(Dramione/Harmione [possible Drarry])

_Distractions_ (Dramione/Harmione/Hints of Drarry [PwP; _only _on AFF. net])

_Hermione Granger and the Chaos Artifact _(Dramione/Harmione/Drarry)

_Lessons in Hedonism_ (Draco/Hermione/Blaise [PwP; _only_ on AFF. net])

_Mortality _([AU] Dramione)

_Nights at Malfoy Manor _(Dramione) **COMPLETE!**

_Silver Blood_ ([DARK FIC] Dramione/Harmione)

_Teach Me_ (Dramione/Scormione [18 yr. old Scorpius])

_Tourniquet_ (Lumione/Dramione)

_Unnatural Magick_ ([AU] Harmione/Dramione in Flashbacks)

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><p><strong>Chapter Two<strong>

Set Apart

She drew in a deep, trembling breath, and let it out slowly. She didn't know how many times her gaze had flickered back and forth between them; didn't know how long they stood there, glaring at one another. It felt like forever, yet she knew more than a few seconds couldn't have passed.

The very air around them was painfully still, and silent. And, in the space of a heartbeat, Hermione realized a dreadful thing. She felt like an intruder.

Her very presence invaded some deeply personal moment that she didn't quite understand. She didn't belong here, just now. The thought struck hard at the center of her chest.

Draco and Harry flinched, each turning their heads to look at her.

Hermione missed the sudden attention, having finally dropped her gaze to the floor as she fished backward blindly for her purse. "I'm just . . . I'm going to step outside for some—some air. Give you two a minute."

"Granger—"

"Hermione, wait—"

"No!" She held up her hands in a sign of surrender, not daring to look at either of them. "I'm sorry, okay? I didn't know who you were to each other. Please, just . . . You two clearly still have things to sort out, I'll only be in the way."

As she dropped her arms, Draco and Harry both reached toward her—each of their own accord—their hands latching around her wrists. Hermione shuddered in their grasp, a strange spark arcing through her at the contact.

Her breathing heavy suddenly, she looked up at them, wide-eyed. They both looked perplexed, glancing at one another, and then back at her, but she refused to believe their apparent confusion. She couldn't, nothing made sense just now.

"What are you doing to me?"

Draco's brow furrowed, his grey eyes narrowing at the accusation. "Granger, we're not—"

"Hermione, this isn't our doing," Harry said, his gaze pleading.

"I don't—I don't believe you. Please, let me go."

She sounded so tiny—like some delicate, wounded thing. Draco's shoulders slumped, though he very much wanted to carry on as though he was angry at her. They were both as blindsided and bewildered by this mess as he was.

Nodding, he relinquished his hold on her wrist.

Harry seemed more reluctant. "Hermione, please . . . ."

"Harry, please let go."

"It's what she wants,Potter."

Turning just enough to glare at Draco, Harry shook his head. "Oh, sure, like you've ever had a clue what other people want."

"Dammit, Potter. For once, listen to me." Draco dared to step a little closer to Harry. "Look at her face."

Forcing a gulp, Harry returned his attention to Hermione. She looked confused and heartbroken; her expression made him feel like he'd been punched in the gut. He was supposed to let her go, yet all he could think of was pulling her in for a hug.

Draco's voice dropped to a whisper Harry could just barely hear over the sound of his own breath. "Nothing you or I say is going to get through to her right now. Let her go."

Frowning deeply, Harry nodded, at last letting Hermione's other wrist slip from his fingers.

Hermione backpedaled to the corridor, and then spun on her heel, hurrying to the door. She didn't look back as she slipped outside—Draco kept figuring out her codes, he could do it again and lock up, himself! Without thought, she went straight to her car.

She wanted the quiet and comfort of her flat. She needed to think, and here, with _them_, she just . . . couldn't.

"Brilliant, and now she's gone," Harry said through clenched teeth as he threw his hands in the air. "She's probably not going to want anything more to do with either one of us."

Draco's brows rose. "Why wouldn't she? She knew about our pasts getting into things. She simply . . . didn't know those pasts were each other."

"This isn't funny, Malfoy!" Harry was already _so_ exasperated with his ex, already _so_ on edge that his shoulders were tensed, and the muscles of his back bunched together. "This was always your problem! You never valued other people's feelings."

Sighing, Draco plastered a hand against his face as he rolled his eyes. "Oh, not this rubbish again. Look," he said, dropping his hand to meet Harry's gaze, "she said it herself, she left because she wants us to sort out what happened between us."

"I don't care." Harry shook his head, folding his arms across his chest as he leaned a hip against Hermione's desk. "You and I have _nothing_ to talk about. At least not until I know it's not going to cost me her."

Draco nodded, chewing his bottom lip as he thought. "I'm not happy at the idea of losing her, either. But there's something bigger going on here. I know that spark wasn't either of us, which means it could only have come from her. I think . . . no, no. _She_ is the one who needs to think, and her head's not clear. Mind's probably swimming right now."

Harry watched, puzzled, as Draco simply turned and started down the corridor. "Where, exactly, are you going?"

"To help her clear her head by doing what I do best," Draco said, shrugging. "I'll call you when she can think straight."

Rolling his eyes, Harry could only shake his head at the low, gravelly pitch in Draco's voice that he recognized all to well—but he couldn't argue with the man's logic. That spark _had_ come from Hermione, she needed to understand what that could mean. And even if he didn't like the idea, he knew Draco was right. And the method he seemed to intend _would_ clear her head. Harry wasn't pleased, but he knew it would work.

"So shagging's what you do best, is it?"

Halting, Draco tipped his head to one side. Turning, he strode back down the corridor to stand before Harry. Those green eyes just blinked at him, questioning. _God_, he'd missed that look.

Whatever Harry expected, it wasn't for Draco to grab him by his shirtfront and pull him close, the tip of his tongue tracing Harry's mouth. Uncertain how to respond, he followed instinct and memory, parting his lips for Draco's tongue.

Exploring and teasing, Draco waited. Waited until Harry's tongue caressed his, waited for Harry's hands clamping over his hips to pull him closer, still. Draco broke the kiss, his breath just a little heavy as he met Harry's gaze once more.

His cheeks were flushed, and his eyes hazy as he stared up at Draco. Okay, yes, he _did_ know how to get one's attention this way, Harry would give him that.

Draco bit back a chuckle as he turned away, walking back down the corridor. He paused, speaking over his shoulder as he opened the door. "Got you in bed on the first night, and you were still in denial."

Flustered, Harry uttered an angry groan, slamming a fist against the desk. "I'll remind you there was alcohol involved!"

"Only making yourself sound worse, Potter."

As the door closed behind Malfoy, Harry let loose a string of foul words.

* * *

><p>Hermione slammed her door and dropped her bag and keys on the end table. Kicking off her shoes, she made a beeline for her liquor cabinet. So what that it was far too early in the day for drinking? She felt as though her entire world had just shattered around her.<p>

Maybe it would numb her to the things she imagined were happening in her laboratory right now. Her shoulders drooped as she grabbed a glass and poured the strongest thing she could find.

Sighing she let herself fall into a sitting position right where she was, glass in one hand and the bottle in the other. She was so beside herself, she didn't even care that the swift motion sloshed some of the liquid from her glass.

She took a long sip, wincing at the burning in her throat. God, what had she done? Taking another, unnecessarily long, sip, she thought back on that sickening, lonely feeling that had settled in the pit of her stomach as she saw them together for the first time. As she realized . . . .

As she came to feel like a total outsider in her own life.

Sighing heavily, she set down the bottle and smoothed her free hand down her face. She felt like she should have known, somehow.

"But then, how could I," she whispered into her glass, misery lacing her tone. "They never said . . . and you're not a bloody mind reader, Hermione! Stop beating yourself up over things you couldn't possibly guess."

Frowning, she braced herself, knocking back the contents of the glass. She shivered, setting the glass on the floor in front of her.

In an odd way, she supposed she should find comfort in all this. The logical part of her brain had sorted from the wreckage and placed before her the fact that her lovers' previous involvement could support her theory, after all.

Yet, for once in her life, she found no comfort in logic. She folded in on herself, pulling her legs into her body and wrapping her arms around them as she dropped her head down against her knees.

Whatever was going on with those two, she was probably the furthest thing from their minds. To think, her fears had been realized so fast it was stunning, really. Joke as they might've, there probably wasn't a place for her with either of them, not anymore.

Hermione tipped her head back, blinking back tears as she swallowed around the painful lump in her throat. She'd never wanted the simple comfort of a hug so much in her life as she did right then.

A knock sounded at her door and she nearly laughed at the irony. Nearly. Her luck, that was probably Pansy. Hermione didn't answer. She just did _not_ have the strength to deal with any of her best/worst frenemy's usual, overly-dramatic, _Oh, woe is me,_ stories today.

"C'mon, Granger, I know you're in there. Don't make me pick the lock."

Hermione's brow furrowed, perhaps that drink was stronger than she thought—or she'd overestimated her tolerance. Wasn't Draco supposed to be with Harry right now?

She groaned, muttering to herself, "God, _with _Harry. I swear my mind's my own worst enemy right now." Sighing, she called out, "Don't waste the effort, it's not locked."

The door popped open, and Draco poked his pale head through. "Not going to throw something at me, are you?"

Sniffling, she shook her head as she climbed to her feet. "No. Why would you think that?"

He rolled his eyes, shrugging and stepping inside. "Yeah, 'cause throwing things when you're angry is so not you," he said as he closed the door behind him and flicked the bolt into place.

Hermione met his gaze as he crossed the room to stand before her. "I'm not angry at _you_—or Harry, for that matter. I'm angry at the situation. And anyway," she shook her head again, "I'm in no mood to talk, so please just go."

"Not here to talk, Granger." He slid an arm around her, his fingers sinking into her hair and dragging her close.

She trembled against him as his tongue thrust between her lips. Eagerly kissing him back, she wound her arms around him, unaware he was forcing her backward until he had her pressed to the wall.

His lips drifted from her mouth to the side of her throat. He nibbled and lapped at the soft skin just below her ear as he tore at the buttons of her blouse.

Before she even realized, he'd stripped her of her top and bra. She cradled his head as his mouth drifted lower, gasping when he latched his teeth around one of her nipples.

The tip of his tongue flicked over the soft, pink flesh in swirling motions until it hardened. He unzipped her skirt, pushing it down over her hips to the floor as he let her nipple slip from his lips and moved onto the other.

Hermione's head fell back, as Draco sank to his knees, his mouth dragging along her skin as he did so. He slid his fingers up her inner thighs, dipping them into the elastic of her knickers to brush teasingly against her before pinching the delicate fabric and dragging it down, letting it pool around her ankles.

Draco chuckled, a deep sound that rumbled in the back of his throat as she impatiently kicked her feet free. He raised her leg and rested it over his shoulder. Parting her with one hand, his gaze trailed over this most private part of her as he slid two fingers deep inside her.

She gasped, her eyes squeezing shut as he withdrew and plunged into her again. Moving her hips, she rocked against his hand to drive his fingers a little deeper.

He observed her for a moment, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip. Grinning at how impatient she was, he leaned in, sweeping the tip of his tongue over the tiny, pulsing bead and her entire body trembled.

She heard a triumphant laugh just before he sealed his lips around it, suckling it expertly between his teeth.

The feel of her clenching tight around his delving fingers had him almost painfully hard and in response, he sucked on her more sharply still. Slipping away the hand that held her parted, he hurried to undress himself.

At shifting beneath her and the rustling of fabric, Hermione looked down. She found Draco pushing his trousers down his legs and kicking them away, leaving him just as bare as she. The sight of him—nude, _hard_, Draco Malfoy was really something to behold—heightened the warm, tingling sensations running through her.

She whimpered his name, feeling her body go taut.

Her cry and the fine tremors shaking through her told him she was on the edge. He sucked at the bead of flesh harder, still, flicking his tongue over it every few seconds as he stabbed his fingers into her faster. She stifled a scream as she came and he guided her through it, working his mouth and hand over her until she was spent.

She trembled violently as his tongue continued to sweep teasingly over her, nursing her through the sweet, thundering little after shocks of her orgasm. When he withdrew, she forced her eyes open, again. Catching her breath, she watched him grasp her raised leg, moving it to rest over his hip as he stood.

He positioned himself carefully, watching her face as he entered. She cried out once more, her body stiffening for a moment as he slowly pulled out of her, withdrawing almost entirely before sliding into her, again.

He lifted her other leg, as well, guiding it around him so that she was pinned between his body and the wall. She crossed her ankles behind him, her hands gripping his shoulders.

Draco was pausing deliberately, teasing her by making her wait.

Hermione was not having such nonsense just now. She rocked her hips to slide herself around his length.

Smiling as he let out a harsh breath, he simply let her move; let her motions guide him into her, and withdraw. After a few blissful minutes of letting her do all the work, he grasped her hips and forced her to still. When she opened those chestnut eyes to scowl at him, he granted her a wicked smirk. Draco lifted her slowly and slammed back down onto him.

A startled, ecstatic cry tore from her lips as he continued pulling her downward, his hips jerking forward each time to bury himself inside her, again and again. Her muscles were tightening all over again, and she clenched around his thrusting length, pushing herself toward the edge for a second time.

He felt her tense against him, once more. "Coming again already, are you?" He muttered smugly in a deep growl of words.

She nodded, unable to speak around the soft, hiccuping moans tumbling from her lips. Despite his slightly mocking tone, she knew from the sudden, frenzied jerking of his hips each time he sank into her that he was about to come, too.

"You realize I love you, right" he whispered, his voice shaking. "And apparently so does Potter."

"This . . . this is hardly the time. . . for this conversation," she managed to say, her body shivering against his.

His breathing turned harsh and ragged as he pulled her harder against his near-violent thrusting. "Answer me."

Forcing a gulp down her throat, Hermione nodded. She _did_ know that.

"And you love both of us, don't you?"

Once more, she nodded, moaning as the bright, pulsing warmth of her orgasm danced through her. She rolled her hips back, trying to feel his thrusts deeper as she came.

Draco groaned, his own orgasm about to start just as hers began to ebb.

Trembling as she caught her breath—her exhalations escaping as little mewling sounds—she started moving, sliding herself back and forth around his length as he surged forward in one final, sharp thrust. He stilled against her, and she dropped her head, dragging her teeth and tongue against his throat in ravenous kisses as she rocked her pelvis. She slowed, eventually halting only when she was certain he was spent.

After several drawn-out moments of listening to her breath, of feeling her skin, warm and damp against his, he pulled back enough to look into her face.

She met his gaze, her dark eyes wide and hazy.

"Now are you ready to talk?"

Hermione scowled, biting her lip to hold back a curse. "No."

"Then we're not done, yet." Slipping his arms between her and the wall, he pulled her tight against him. He turned, holding her to him as he strode to her bedroom.

* * *

><p>Harry was seeing red by the time he knew his mobile was going to ring—a good <em>three<em> hours after Draco'd left. Rolling his eyes, he answered as the chime was about to sound. "Was it _really _necessary to take so long, or were you just rubbing my face in things?"

Draco chuckled, turning his attention to Hermione. She lay on her stomach on the bed, her head pillowed on her folded arms and watching him as she caught her breath. "If you wanted _that_ you could have popped on over, too, Potter. And anyway, she chose to be stubborn."

"Are you surprised? You two have _actually_ spoken before, right?"

Rolling her eyes, Hermione shook her head, hearing Harry's irritated tone from where she was.

"She's ready to talk," Draco said, his voice suddenly serious. "More importantly, she's ready to listen. Just get over here before she changes her mind."


	3. Witchy Nonsense

**My other **_**H****P**_** Fanfictions****:**

_A Night Unfettered _(Dramione [**one-shot**, lemon])

_Dame Blanche_ (Dramione/Harmione [possible Drarry])

_Distractions_ (Dramione/Harmione/Drarry [PwP; _only_ on AFF. net])

_Hermione Granger and the Chaos Artifact _(Dramione/Harmione/Drarry)

_Lessons in Hedonism _(Draco-Hermione-Blaise [PwP; _only_ on AFF. net])

_Mortality_ ([AU] Dramione])

_Nights at Malfoy Manor_ (Dramione) **COMPLETE!**

_Silver Blood _([DARK FIC] Dramione/Harmione)

_Teach Me_ (Dramione/Scormione [18 yr. old Scorpius])

_The Lestrange Girl _([AU] Dramione)

**NEW! **_The Meekdragon Legacy _(Dramione [possible Harmione])

_Tourniquet _(Lumione/Dramione)

_Unnatural Magick_ ([AU] Harmione/Dramione in Flashbacks)

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Thee<strong>

Witchy Nonsense

Severus pursed his lips. It was a notably displeased expression, but the pushy, well-to-do older gentleman seated across from him either didn't know what the soured face meant, or didn't care.

He let out a weighted sigh. Probably the latter, the way all these upper-crust bastards were—totally uncaring if their inane nonsense was a complete waste someone else's precious time.

Dark eyebrow arching upward, Severus folded his hands atop his desk and fixed the salt-and-pepper haired man with a cold look. "I'm sure you understand that you are laughably misinformed. There are no such things as witches, my dear fellow. And those who call themselves such are simply practitioners of a harmless religion."

He—Fudge, what a truly ridiculous family name, perhaps it was a perfect fit for someone who thought witches were some sort of subspecies within humanity—shook his head, rather impatient now, himself. "Honestly, sir, I did not come here to be spoken to in such a manner!"

Severus just barely refrained from rolling his eyes. "Well, pardon me for saying so, _sir_, but to come in here—to my _private _office—and start spouting off about fairy tale creatures, I have to think being spoken to in such a manner rather an expected thing. I am a _scientist_, not a daytime telly talk show host!"

After a moment, Fudge nodded. Severus didn't know if he realized he was being ridiculous, or realized this was no place for his flights of fancy.

"Listen," the older man finally said as he sat forward and ran a shaky a hand over his hair, "I didn't believe any of this, either. I truly didn't, in fact, sometimes I'm still uncertain. But recently my father passed, when going through his estate's affects, I . . . found something that made me start to question . . . _everything_."

At last they were getting somewhere! Now that Fudge seemed inclined to speak reasonably and explain himself, Severus didn't feel such an overwhelming and almost itchy need to shoo him away.

Once more, Severus Snape pursed his lips, sitting back in his chair and folding his arms across his chest. "I'm listening."

* * *

><p>Hermione sat cross-legged on the bed, her gaze leaping from one man to the other, and back. Harry had naturally insisted she dress, while Draco had seemed perfectly content for her to stay nude. As it was, Draco himself had only seen fit to pull the bed sheet over his lap.<p>

She'd compromised, slipping on a pair of knickers and a camisole. Though, honestly, she didn't really see the purpose when they'd both seen all her bits, already, hadn't they?

But, as Harry had pointed out, given what was hanging over their heads, her staying undressed—while Draco, purposefully Hermione and Harry both thought, refused to bother putting any clothes on—was only going to deter any discussion.

"I know you both say it wasn't either of you," she said, her tone quiet and thoughtful as she shrugged, circling her ankles with her fingers, "but I just can't believe you. I'm sorry."

"For God's sake, Granger." Draco rubbed his knuckles against his eyes before continuing. "Why would we lie about it? We didn't cause that spark. Therefore, it could _only_ have come from you."

"But I'm not like you two."

Harry sat down on the bed, frowning. Reaching out, he tucked a lock of her wild golden-brown hair behind her ear, relieved when she didn't pull away. "How do you know? I mean, how do you _really_ know you're not?"

"Aside from the fact that I can't do anything extraordinary, like you two can?"

Draco and Harry both nodded in response.

"I—I would think that's sort of the clincher, isn't it?" she asked, her brow furrowed as she continued to look back and forth between them.

Draco shrugged. "Maybe you just focused differently. Think of how quickly you advanced in your field. How certain you were about the difference in our DNA . . . like you already_ knew_ it was true, somehow."

Hermione frowned, shaking her head. "So what? Scientists get hunches _all _the time. And besides, I've checked my own DNA."

At this, Draco's brows shot up. "Not since finding the marker in the so-called junk, you haven't."

Harry's brows pinched together at the oversight. "You didn't recheck it after finding what you were looking for in a totally unexpected place?

"Of course not," she said, her tone sour, "because I know I'm probably not going to find anything there."

Sighing heavily, Draco pushed away the sheet and stood up from the bed. As he turned away and started toward the bedroom door—hiding a wicked grin at how both sets of gazes followed his naked form—Harry's voice stopped him.

"Where are you going bare as the day you were born?"

"To fetch my clothes. We have data to double-check now, don't you think? Can't very well go back to the lab like _this_, can we?"

After Draco stepped from the room, Harry turned to look at Hermione. Her gaze lingered on the doorway, but her expression wasn't longing, or even bashful. She hadn't been staring after Draco, not truly. Her face was thoughtful, and unexpectedly sullen.

"Hermione, what is it?"

Swallowing hard, she met his gaze. "I'm—I'm not sure I want to go have a second look at my DNA. I think I'm . . . ." She bit her lip, once more shaking her head before going on. "I know this sounds strange, but I think I'm a little scared to find out."

Harry reached out, taking one of her hands between both of his. "Look, I get it, really. You're afraid to feel like you don't really know yourself; to start to wonder what else you might be capable of—or might _have been_ capable of—had you known this sooner. If knowing you're different could have affected your life in some way."

Hermione remained silent, forcing a small, albeit sad, smile. Harry always knew just what to say.

He leaned closer, lifting one of his hands from hers to cup her cheek. "There are a million what-if's running through your mind right now, and that's okay. It's normal . . . _you_ might not be, but it is."

She laughed in spite of herself, even as he leaned close, brushing his lips over hers.

"Oy, now." Draco stood in the doorway, his trousers on, but his shirt not yet buttoned. "No snogging behind my back, thanks very much."

Hermione laughed, while Harry scowled.

"Excuse me?" Green eyes narrowed lethally. "But didn't you just have her all to yourself for _three hours_? Now you're telling me I can only snog _our_ girlfriend if you're in the room?"

"Yeah," Draco said with a wink, "but we all know _I'm_ a selfish bastard."

Blushing, she dropped her gaze to her hand, still in Harry's. _Their_ girlfriend? Just that morning, she'd been so certain they'd both drop her. And they hadn't really talked about what the state of their relationships was—or relation_ship_, she wasn't certain how to classify this particular dynamic. Yet their easy rapport, and their acceptance of each other in her life and her heart made her think that maybe this could work out, after all.

Clearly the young men still had issues to hash out between themselves, she realized as they broke into a squabble over . . . God only knew what. But at least she knew now she could be there for both of them, help them sort through whatever had gone wrong between them and not lose either of them.

She bit her lip, holding in a smile as she stood from the bed and went to her wardrobe to gather an outfit. So perhaps _she_ was the selfish one.

But then—she turned to look at Draco and Harry as she started to dress—who could blame her?

* * *

><p>Severus looked up from the documents before him. His brow furrowed and he squared his jaw, merely staring at the old man before speaking. "Am I reading this correctly?"<p>

The man nodded, solemn and silent.

"These . . . abilities ran in the same families for generations?"

Once more, Fudge nodded.

Dr. Snape resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Hadn't Granger gone on about this very type of thing, without evidence? Still, part of him found the concept downright laughable, but . . . what if she was correct?

What if she'd been on to something all along, and it was learned that _he'd_ been the one to mock her?

The scientific community took about as kindly to that sort of hindsight realization as they did to crackpot theories prior to proving.

"I'm sorry, but what exactly is it you wish me to do for you?"

"Well," Fudge began with a shrug and a mildly bewildered expression, "someone with your expertise, you could find out, couldn't you? If this was possible, I mean? If they're just ordinary people, then it wouldn't matter, but what if they're _actually_ different?"

Severus held back the knee-jerk reaction to point out that scientific discovery was its own reward—clearly this posh gentleman couldn't care less about the merit of furthering scientific understanding of human origins.

But he was curious as to Cornelius Fudge's personal motives.

"If I . . . deign to research this matter for you, what would you do with the information?"

Wiping his hand down his face, Fudge suddenly seemed to become even older—more aged and tired than he'd been a heartbeat earlier. "At first, I think I'd simply be content with knowing my father, and his ancestors before him, weren't mad. That they didn't waste away their lives, fixated on something that wasn't real."

"At first?" Severus echoed, arching a brow. Sitting back, he steepled his hands before his mouth. "And then after?"

"Publish the findings. Where it would go from there is anybody's guess."

"So your current financial standing isn't enough for you? You're in this for the money?" Snape didn't know if he admired the man's petty ambitions, or hated him for it.

"On the contrary," Fudge said, sitting up a little straighter as he fetched his fedora from the end table beside the chair in which he sat. "If there is something to know, then the world _should_ know it. I would be willing to pay you handsomely for any work you contribute to this endeavor, Dr. Snape."

The younger man pondered this offer for a few quiet moments. He simply stared at the other man, his lips pursed and his eyes narrowed beneath an unhappily furrowed brow. Of course, one didn't pursue science for the money, but . . . a man of Fudge's means offering to pay_ handsomely _would likely provide enough capital to fund whatever research Snape saw fit to undertake long after this witchy-nonsense was over.

Severus still didn't believe the old man's _proof_—family trees, birth and death records, old journal entries dating back to before the Trials—but there was no harm in accepting funding to prove _himself _correct, was there?

To play it safe, he made a mental note to contact his former pupil later. On the off-chance she'd found anything to support her theory, he'd save them both time and unnecessary effort by combining their research.

She didn't need to know about Fudge's funding.

"You understand I can't guarantee that my findings will give you the answer you desire?"

Fudge offered a mirthless grin as he set his hat on his head and grabbed up his walking stick. "A definitive answer, either way, is all I seek, Dr. Snape." He stood, nodding in farewell. "I will leave these duplicates with you. You have my contact information. I'll give you a few days to think this over."

Snape gave the man a distracted nod of his own, not bothering with an offer to walk him out. Instead he returned his attention to the questionable documentation before him.

* * *

><p>Fudge gathered his coat around himself as the driver opened the door. He settled into the car, meeting his associate's gazes, in turn.<p>

"Well," Barty Crouch said, his brows shooting up, nearly disappearing beneath the brim of his bowler. "What did he say?"

A smug grin curved Fudge's lips as the car pulled away from the curb. "He hasn't agreed yet, but he will."

Riddle's dark eyes narrowed in suspicion—but then what was new? Tom Riddle was suspicious of everyone and everything. "How can you be certain?"

"Because I've offered him the one thing any scientist as smart as they_ think_ they are wants. Research capital."

Riddle looked unimpressed.

"Rest assured, Tom, this is something to which money _is _the answer."

Setting his jaw, Riddle and Crouch exchanged a glance. After a moment, Crouch nodded.

Sighing, Riddle nodded back. "All right, I suppose it's time to call Shacklebolt."

Fudge paled at the mention. "You don't think it too soon?"

Riddle pulled his mobile from his pocket as he muttered, "Better to have him on hand, in case this goes how we hope."

* * *

><p>Hermione sat back, chestnut eyes so wide they showed white all around as her gaze leaped from the image of her own DNA chain, to Draco's and Harry's. The marker was there. Mixed in, hidden within the <em>so-called junk<em>, just as theirs were.

Draco remained standing, his gaze fixed on her face all the while. Harry sat in a folding chair beside her, an arm around her shoulders.

"Well? Are you okay?"

She looked up, meeting Draco's grey eyes. "I . . . don't know. To be totally honest, I've not got a clue how I feel. All this time I've been the answer to my own question, and I hadn't the foggiest idea."

"Be fair," Harry said with a shrug. "There's no way you could have known."

Draco rolled his eyes. She needed time to sort her feelings, not pester herself about it, as was Potter's method for working through his myriad emotional issues.

"Maybe we should . . . . I dunno." The pale-haired man offered a shrug of his own. "Talk about something else 'til you can get your head around this, huh, Granger?"

Hermione nodded, giving herself a shake. That was a good idea, if she focused on something else, her feelings could sort themselves in the background. That was the strange freedom of having a mind that compartmentalized—she could set aside puzzled thoughts, and when she came back to them, they'd have organized themselves into coherent ideas.

"So," she said finally, bringing up the first thing that came to mind as she looked from Draco to Harry, and back, "why _did _you two break up?"

Draco's head fell back and he uttered a miserable groan while Harry set his jaw and looked away.


	4. Of Past & Present

**Next to Update:****_The Lestrange Girl_**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Four<strong>

Of Past & Present

_Jean opened the door just a crack and peeked inside. There on the bed—awake long past her bedtime—Hermione sat up, reading the book open her lap by the beam of a torch._

_Chuckling inwardly, the middle-aged woman slipped into the room. The moment she flicked on the light, the little girl gave a start. She immediately dropped the torch and dove under her covers._

_"You're not fooling anyone, young lady," Jean said with a sigh—though the sound was forced, and she knew Hermione would be able to tell, she always was—as she crossed the floor to perch on the side of the bed._

_When her granddaughter refused to come out of hiding, the woman gently tugged away the covers. After a moment of stroking the girl's bushy, brown hair, she thought the little one finally acknowledged that she wasn't in _real_ trouble._

_Hermione sat up again, the book clutched against her chest. She chewed on her lower lip, the delicate skin under her chestnut-colored eyes scrunched up as they narrowed._

_Jean knew that look. "Can't turn off your thinking, again?"_

_Shaking her head, the girl set the book down in her lap. "Gran?"_

_The woman smiled gently as she swept Hermione's hair back from her face and tucked it behind her shoulders. "Yes, sweetheart?"_

_"Is magic real?"_

_Jean sat back, staring curiously into the child's face. "Hermione, that's only a book of fairy stories."_

_Hermione's eyes narrowed further, still, as she held her grandmother's gaze, noting that _that_ wasn't an answer. "It is, but there are _so_ many stories like this. How can't it be true?"_

_Grey eyebrows shooting upward, Jean nodded, her expression thoughtful. "Well, you know what? That is a very good point, but I'm afraid I don't know. Maybe it is, maybe it isn't. Your problem, young lady, is that you're far too brilliant for your own good."_

_The woman stood and held out an expectant hand._

_Hermione puckered her lips, her mouth twitching side-to-side as she simply stared at her grandmother's outstretched fingers._

_"Hand it over. If I leave it with you, you'll spend all night rereading it and won't get any sleep!" Honestly, why she constantly had to argue with a five year old was beyond her—but then she was well aware Hermione wasn't much like other children her own age._

_Scowling darkly, the little girl finally held out the book. There was an indignant, dramatic air to the gesture, made only more amusing by her tiny stature and serious expression._

_As she accepted the storybook, Jean bit her lip to hold in a laugh. If she let it slip, Hermione would fixate on it and _never _agree to go to sleep._

_Hermione made a small, grumbling sound of displeasure in the back of her throat as she lay down on the bed. She was completely ignoring, of course, that a yawn tore from her lips as she smushed her cheek against her pillow._

_Putting the weathered, leather-bound volume beneath one arm, Jean leaned over her granddaughter and pulled up her blankets. She dropped a kiss on the girl's forehead and turned to leave the room._

_At the door, she paused, her fingers on the light switch. Her gaze skirting about the room, she muttered, "Where did that bloody ginger beast get to this time?"_

_Snuggling deeper into the heavy covers—so that the small girl seemed to disappear entirely, leaving nothing but a sprout of puffy brown hair where her head should be—Hermione said in a sleepy tumble of words, "Crookshanks is under the coffee table, playing with his toy mouse."_

_Jean nodded, speaking to appease the child who seemed to think she could see through walls and floors, "I'm sure that's probably it. Good night, sweetheart."_

_"Night, Gran."_

_At last switching off the light, the woman stepped out into the corridor and closed the door. Shaking her head as a small smile tugged the corners of her mouth upward, she made her way to the staircase._

_As she reached the landing, she heard something—a strange, soft scraping sound. It was barely audible even though she was here on the same floor as whatever was making the noise; just beneath the sounds of the program she'd been watching on the telly before she'd gone up to check on Hermione._

_Frowning, she set down the book and turned her head, scanning the room. Her eyebrows lifted as she realized the direction from which the scraping came._

_Ducking, she peered across the floor toward the coffee table._

_Underneath, Hermione's puffy orange cat lay. The pudgy feline was curled up on back as he alternately batted away the toy mouse and then pulled it back, once more to bite at it._

_Brow furrowing, Jean rose and pivoted on her heel to look back toward the staircase. She wrote the moment off as coincidence, yet she couldn't help being unnerved by it._

_Hermione was always doing odd little things like that._

* * *

><p>Harry and Draco exchanged a long, unhappy look, before Harry finally sighed and nodded.<p>

"Fine," he said, returning his gaze to Hermione's. "If you must know, it's all his fault."

Draco sputtered a sound of irritation. "Oh, bloody hell. Not this, again."

Mouth pursing, Harry pushed up from where he'd been sitting beside Hermione to glare at Draco closer to eye-level—admittedly the pale-haired young man was still taller by a handful of centimeters. "I'm sorry, what are you expecting me to say?"

Eyebrows shooting up, Draco said in a lethal hiss, "I was expecting _you_ to take some responsibility for it, too!"

Hermione sank her teeth into her bottom lip as she recoiled a bit in her desk chair. She'd wanted them to talk, wanted them to hash things out so whatever was here between the three of them began on a clean slate. Or at least as close to one as they could all get.

Well . . . they _were_ talking, she supposed that was a start. Even if said talking was more of a controlled sort of shouting.

"Me?" Harry paused, slipping off his wire-frame glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger. His eyes squeezed closed as he asked, "How can you _possibly_ say any of it was my fault?"

Shaking his head, Draco threw up his hands. "You're the one who walked away!"

With a violent start, Harry threw his glasses down against Hermione's desk, causing her to jump a bit. Balling his hands into fists, he said through clenched teeth, "You lied to your father about who I was to you—right in front of my _face_!"

Chewing furiously on her bottom lip, Hermione turned her head in subtle motions, wondering if either of them would noticed if she slipped from the room. This was clearly a discussion that should be private and she was beginning to think pushing them just _might_ have been a terrible idea.

Once more Draco shook his head. "I told you, I bloody told you—" Grey eyes locked on Hermione's for the briefest moment as he reiterated, "I _told _him." He snapped his gaze back up to Harry's. "He would never understand. You don't know my father."

Harry made a scoffing sound in the back of his throat and folded his arms across his chest.

"It's shitty, but it's true! He _never_ would have accepted his son being in a relationship with another man! He would have made both our lives a living hell_ just_ to drive you away from me."

With a sour grin, Harry muttered, "I'm certain not wanting to disappoint the _esteemed_ Lucius Malfoy had nothing to do with it."

"God, this is so—" Draco buried his face in his hands and groaned. The next words slipped out before he realized, formed from anger and spite, "If you _had_ parents you might actually understand what it feels like to disappoint them!"

Hermione's face fell, her eyes shooting wide open as she whispered, "Draco, _no_!"

Laughing mirthlessly as he shook his head, Harry grabbed his glasses and began backpedaling toward the corridor. "Wow, okay. This is . . . pointless. I don't know why I thought this could work."

They listened to his footfalls, heard him step out and slam the door behind him. Hermione gave a jump at the sound, despite that she'd been expecting it.

Meeting her gaze, Draco let his shoulders droop. "I didn't mean to say that," he said in a helpless whisper.

"I know," she said as she stood and moved to place herself in front of him. Cupping his face in her hands she went on, "But you_ still_ said it. And it was a _really_ heartless and terrible thing to say."

He nodded, pressing a hand over one of hers as his eyes drifted closed. "I know. It was . . . just always like that with us. He'd get angry about something and I'd say something_ really_ wounding, then he'd walk away." Opening his eyes again, he frowned. "But he'd come back; eventually he'd always come back. And then, that last time, he just . . . ."

She'd never seen him like this. Before this moment, Hermione hadn't even been certain Draco _could_ be hurt. Yet now, as he stared down at her, she thought she saw a sheen of tears in his eyes.

Draco shrugged, his lower lip trembling ever so slightly. "That last time he just _didn't _and that was how it ended."

Her heart clenched painfully in her chest at his tone and the sorrowful expression on his face. Rising up on her toes, she pressed her lips to his in a long, soft kiss. She was overcome with the most bizarre notion that somehow she was_ supposed_ to be a catalyst for a reconciliation between them.

As she pulled back, she found him looking into her eyes. He raised his free hand, tracing her mouth with the tip of a finger. "How ever did we find you?" he said in a mystified-sounding whisper.

For a moment his question startled her. Could he have somehow known the thought that had run through her head? She shrugged, offering him a gentle smile. "You didn't, I found you."

He chuckled and shook his head.

"Very important question," she said, her voice soft.

His eyebrows shot up. "Hmm?"

Hermione took a moment, biting her lip as she rethought what she had to ask. She shook her head and decided to force herself, for no matter how she turned the question—no matter how she weighed what she considered rather telling evidence from their behavior—it still remained something that had to be brought out into the open.

"Do you still love him?"

Hearing those words fall from her lips jarred him. To hear the woman he was madly in love with ask _that_ question hurt, somehow. He felt the knee-jerk reaction; felt the denial form on the tip of his tongue. Yet there would be no moving forward for any of them if he wasn't honest just now.

"Yes," he said in a whisper.

Nodding, she kissed him once more and stepped back, letting her hands drop from him. "Then it's settled. I'm going to go get him. You, um, I suppose go to my flat and wait for us." After she spoke, she nodded again—that _sounded_ like a plan. "You are going to apologize and _mean_ it. And then you two will discuss this like civilized human beings."

Draco nodded in response, but reached out to catch her wrist as she started to turn away.

Looking at him over her shoulder, she was surprised by the rather un-Draco-Malfoy-like concern in his eyes. "What?"

"What if he doesn't want to see either one of us?"

Hermione shrugged. "You, maybe, but why wouldn't he want to see me?" She smirked and gave him a wink. "I'm not the one stomped all over his childhood tragedy."

Letting her wrist slip from his hand, he simply stared after her, dumbstruck for a moment. As she reached the door, he worked up a response. "Oy, with that kind of sass I'm starting to think I've had a bad influence on you."

At the door, she spun on her heel to look back at him. "And I love you all the more for it." She blew him a kiss and then disappeared outside.

Shaking his head—God, this was a mess—he muttered to himself, "To her flat, okay." He wasn't entirely certain he was physically capable of forming the words to speak an apology, but he'd certainly _try_.

As he started across the office to the corridor, the phone on her desk rang.

His brow furrowed as he watched it for a few rings. He was pretty certain he'd never even seen her use the bloody thing. Strolling to the desk, he let his curiosity get the better of him.

Picking it up, he answered in a sing-song—albeit _mildly_ snarky—tone. "Hermione Granger's desk. The _lovely_ doctor isn't in right now, might I take a message?"

There was a moment of silence, making him wonder if it wasn't a crank call. But then he heard a confused-sounding voice say, "Draco?"

His eyebrows shot up into his bangs. He'd recognize that naturally condescending, sneering pitch anywhere. But what was an old friend of his father's doing calling Granger?

Resisting the urge to pull the receiver from his ear and look at it for a long moment, he simply asked, "Severus?"


End file.
